Surviving
by Dorku No Renkinjutsushi
Summary: Surviving is more than just not being killed. KakaIru


Written in one of my insane fits of fancy for a friend. (Heh, what fun alliteration!) Please, enjoy and give me some critique.

As you all know, _Naruto_ is the property of Kishimoto-sensei. I have promised that I will return the boys in (mostly) one piece!

* * *

There's more to surviving than not being killed. I think I finally realise that now, so many years after you first started trying to bash the idea into my 'imperceptibly thick head'.

Are you laughing at me now?

Somehow, I doubt it. You never laughed at me, not once. You didn't laugh when I struggled through emotional cesspits that were as deep as any swamp. You didn't laugh when I came to brick walls that I could have avoided, had I just sat down and thought it out like any sane, normal person. You didn't laugh when you explained this, and you didn't laugh when I told you that I wasn't normal, that I wasn't sane, and meant it. You didn't laugh at me when skipping from Point A to Point J in half a second occasionally meant that I missed Points B, E, and G.

You never laughed.

Did I ever thank you for that?

If I didn't, I'd really like to thank you now. Truly, I think I would have rather told you a few days ago, but it is too late for such regrets now. You told me that, once.

'_Live for today, live in today. Tomorrow may never come. Yesterday never will come again. You must live today, because today is the only day you'll ever have.'_

You repeated these words time after time. Usually, you said them to someone in trouble or in pain. You told them to Naruto when he believed he didn't deserve to live, that he'd never succeed. You told it to Sasuke when he finally got home, covered in wounds and full of regrets. You told it to Sakura when she went to Tsunade, not entirely sure if she wanted to possibly maybe slightly give up on what was once Konoha's strongest team.

You told them to me, patiently and calmly, every time I sat in the dark and shivered. You repeated them, words making a careworn path over your tongue, every time I sat staring at the sun for hours until I couldn't see out of either eye. You let them slide into my memory, timeworn memories rising in mind as you spoke, every time I shook so hard that I couldn't move, every time I froze the pain away, every time I tried to burn the memories away with the sight of the golden sun.

You taught me that surviving is more than just not being killed.

You taught me that I have to learn to stop and think occasionally. _Yes,_ you'd say, _you are a genius, but please stop being such an idiot._ I'd look at you, indignant and stunned that you would be so traitorous as to insult me. You'd just laugh at the look on my face. Not at me, but at the look on my partially visible face. It wasn't a mean laugh, not a cruel laugh. It was like you, warm and gentle, comforting and soft, funny and cuddly all in one package.

I think I'm being stupid right now. Will you laugh at me?

You taught me that surviving sometimes means feeling. _Yes,_ you'd say, _a shinobi is supposed to feel nothing. But it's emotions that mean you're still alive._ I'd just look at you, patient and sceptical. You'd smile the way you smiled at small children. It's a smile that tames wild beasts and jounin, or so I learned. Armed with little more than that smile, you always managed to bring a slight measure of humanity back to my heart.

I think I'm losing feeling in my heart. Will you smile at me?

You taught me that surviving sometimes means not feeling. _Yes,_ you'd say, _I did tell you to feel. But this isn't your fault. Stop beating yourself up over it._ I'd just look at you, not entirely understanding what you meant, but unwilling to admit it around my pride. You'd sigh and sit down next to me, fingers lacing with my own. You'd swing our hands and explain that not everything that happens in this world is one person's fault—no one's that important. You'd ground me in reality once again.

I think I'm going to die of the pain. Will you ground me?

You taught me that surviving is believing. _Believe,_ you'd say, _and you'll survive. I believe that you'll live. Now you need to believe it, too._ I'd just give you a look, the one that says I don't take orders from anyone, especially not uppity chuunin. You'd laugh and squeeze my hand, reminding me in your quiet way what I was supposed to be believing in. And if the best part of belief is a lie, we never mentioned it. Sometimes, you have to lie to continue to live.

I think I'm losing my beliefs. Will you lie to me?

You taught me that surviving is one part faith. _Faith,_ you'd say, _is one of mankind's greatest motivators._ I'd point out that there's only one religion shinobi believe in, and that's the 'there-are-no-atheists-in-foxholes' type of religion, really. You'd just chuckle and drape your arms around my shoulders. You'd smile and tell me to stop being such a bloody cynic. Then you'd look to the skies and loudly say a prayer for me…well, for both of us, really, you'd confess. You'd smile as you said that I needed faith to survive, and you needed me to survive. You held me fast in the deep well of your faith.

I think I've run out of faith in anything good. Will you pray for me?

You taught me that surviving is also one part remembrance. _Remember,_ you'd say,_ because some of your best lessons come from what happened before._ I'd look at you, wondering why you wanted me to remember what both of us admitted was better off left alone. You'd sigh and whisper that as long as I remembered everything I'd ever seen, heard, learned, or done, I'd come home to you. Unspoken, the thought stayed between us that remembering was what you would do if I didn't. You'd squeeze my hand so tight my fingers would ache, and you would remember all those days of innocence.

I think I can't remember. Will you remind me again?

You taught me that surviving is one part forgetting. _Occasionally,_ you'd say, _you just have to be able to forget and start all over again._ I'd shoot you that cynical look, and you'd laugh a little. You'd fish an arm around my shoulders and tell me that sometimes, you just have to let things go. You'd tell me, seriously, that sometimes forgetting was the only option. You'd whisper that occasionally, remembering wouldn't let us live in today or in the future at all. You'd remind me to forget. You'd squeeze my shoulders and we'd sit there. I'd do my best to forget that I might not see tomorrow, and you'd do your best to forget that I'd ever come home injured and broken. You'd do your best to forget that I was mortal.

I think I remember too much. Will you forget me?

You taught me that surviving is, sadly, mostly luck. _Luck,_ you'd say, _is the most fickle of ladies._ I'd grin, because you'd be all proud like you'd spouted gospel. I'd give you that lazy, lazy smile that you once described as 'as bad as porn incarnate' and remind you that neither you nor I _liked_ ladies. You'd scowl and slap my head. I'd laugh, and the play fight would begin. We often behaved like puppies in this way, and I rather liked it. I was so lucky to have you, and I knew it. You said we were just lucky that neither of our luck had run out just yet. I'd go inside to begin to pack. You'd sit outside on the porch and beg luck to be a lady, if just for tonight.

I think she didn't hear you; I wasn't lucky at all. Will you ask her again?

You taught me that surviving is, most importantly, loving. _Love,_ you'd whisper, _love is quite possibly the weirdest thing on the face of the earth. It makes men and women fools, crazy. Technically, it is no more than a few hundred thousand chemicals dancing through your blood and wreaking havoc with your mind like there's no tomorrow. On a more sensible note, it's that strange thing that reminds you that you're actually human. It makes you feel so much that your entire existence rests in the arms of a single person. Love is, in four words, an utter _mind fuck you'd chuckle.

I'd laugh at that, muffling the sounds with the most convenient thing possible. Usually, this was your shoulder. You'd laugh back, a deep, rich and reverberating sound that most people rarely got to hear. It was your true laugh, and it was so much better than the one you let everyone have. And it was all _mine_.

We'd lay together, laughing and cuddling in the warm afterglow of too much pent-up emotion and too many fears and too much stress and too many feelings. You'd fall asleep, draped across me like a warm blanket. My hands would lace over your back and shoulders, tucking your head in close to my shoulder while theoretically keeping your icy cold nose from colliding with the supersensitive skin of my neck. I'd lay there with you and realise that tomorrow really would come.

And you'd wake up sometime around two, and see my staring, unseeing face, and understand in the way that only you ever seemed to understand. You'd sit up and wrap your warm, strong arms around me, holding me to your warm, strong chest. You'd let me listen to your heartbeat for hours, until the sun could be seen coming up over the top of the mountains.

Then I'd bite my lip. You'd kiss me gently, chastely, childishly sweet. You'd raise my eyes to yours. You'd smile. You'd whisper the truth to me.

_Live for today, live in today,_ you'd whisper gently. _Tomorrow may never come. Yesterday never _will_ come again. Live in today, because today is the only day you'll ever have._

I'd squeeze my eyes shut tightly, much like I am doing now. And I'd do my best to remember to forget, to think about feeling, to have faith in my own ability to not feel, and to have believe in luck.

Are you laughing now?

Or perhaps you are crying.

Maybe cursing, yelling, railing against me.

I don't blame you, not in the slightest. You told me, over and over, to live for today. To live in today. You told me, words slowly becoming timeworn and all the more beautiful for it, that tomorrow might never come, and that yesterday never would come again. You told me, voice pleading and careworn, to live in today, because it was the only day I'd ever have.

I'm not sure I can do that anymore.

After all, you are in Yesterday, now. You will never come again. You are in Yesterday. You never will come home. You are in Yesterday.

You are not in Today, and all I have now is Yesterday.

Surviving is so much more than just not dying.


End file.
